A Bounty of Beers, A Cacophony of CDs / Jukebox bars are the cool places to be

Sam Whiting, Chronicle Staff Writer

Published
4:00 am PST, Sunday, November 30, 1997

Nobody wants to look lonely or bored in a bar. When socializing fails, one can always swagger over to the jukebox and brood over the selection.

The days of dropping in a quarter and watching the old Wurlitzer plunk down a waxy 45 are gone everywhere but the Tosca Cafe. The new CD jukes accept bills, just like Muni, and hold 100 albums. With eight jukebox bars along 16th Street, that figures to about 10,000 songs to pick from -- and not one Top 40 single.

The machines are new, with spinning little discs in the display, but the songs are old and obscure jazz, blues, soul, punk, funk, rock and roots Americana.

As a study guide, there is a button reading "press for the most popular selections on this phonograph." Making a choice that will be favorably judged by all the hipsters in the bar takes total concentration, night-vision goggles and several pints.

The beer selection is equally boggling.

Jacks Elixir alone has 60 beers on tap. Draft beer has all but replaced bottles, and every boutique draft has its own custom tap handle to draw a drinker's attention.

The Golden Bear handle, for instance, is a toy bear. "It's a cute little spout," admits Linda Hagood, who tends bar at the Casanova Lounge, "but it doesn't taste as good as it looks." That's the kind of straight advice a customer needs. But a few of these beer-pourers put on airs like wine stewards. If you want to take the attitude out of a bartender, ask what beers are on tap. After hearing the list of all the nectars and pilsners and ambers and ales, request a Bud or Coors. When they don't have it, move along.

A drifter can go in and out of neighborhood bars all night without spending a dime, just living off the mix of conversation that rises above the jukebox to form a din.

There are no cover charges or velvet ropes or dance floors or cocktail waitresses. These are bars, not nightclubs. Bachelorette parties in blinking white limos do not cruise 16th.

The rooms are small. Most don't have a back door, which restricts occupancy to 49 to meet the fire department code, though the numbers in the Mission are loosely calculated. The double doors are usually wide open and it's easy to get a feel for a place while standing on the sidewalk.

Here's a guide to what's inside:

CASANOVA LOUNGE

An atmospheric parlor with orange walls, resin grape-bunch light fixtures hanging above the bar and swag lamps dangling over the couches and pool table. The fake fieldstone fireplace is the kitschiest piece of Mission bric-a-brac since the vibrating bed in the Makeout Room.

An old bar, the Casanova was bought and reopened this fall by Don and Lanee Alan, who also own Radio Valencia seven blocks south. They decided to decorate Casanova like an apartment and went on a secondhand shopping spree into the time- warped Midwest. The Casanova interior looks like the set of a '70s movie. There is nothing after 1974 on the juke, or in the decor, or worn by the bartenders and most of the clientele.

SKYLARK

A monument to gold vinyl upholstery, the Skylark has the deepest booths this side of Elvis Presley's Memphis. They comfortably seat eight, and the overflow lines up on the long banquette.

Open less than a year, Skylark has a reputation for attracting weekend Marina slummers looking for a dive. Given that skinny sideburns and goatees are the norm in cyberspace, the Skylark is as clean-cut as an online party. Disc jockeys play ambient and lounge music weekends.

DALVA

Described as an "overcrowded alleyway," Dalva is narrow and looks as if it's lit by candles. Named for a Jim Harrison novel, the hideout was formerly Sumiko's and, before that, McBride's Fireside, which used to open at 7 a.m. with "We'll Sing in the Sunshine" coming off the jukebox.

"Fireside" is still engraved in the entry tiles, a nice touch. Open four years, Dalva draws a "great, nice, straight, queer mix," says 16th Street regular David Mills. The bartender wears puka shells and nobody seems to notice.

ALBION

The new neon marquee announces "Service for the Sick" through the inviting double doors on Albion Street. There is Hamm's on tap, though it might add more to the sickness than the service.

Open 10 years, Albion has aged with its clientele into a working- class neighborhood bar. The carpet is red where it hasn't been worn to black, and there is a small hidden nook with a vinyl booth.

Separating the barroom from the pool room is an interior alleyway that feels like a medieval torture chamber. Albion has live music on Sundays, often by some of the same performers who are on the jukebox, a few of whom also tend bar.

KILOWATT

A converted firehouse, Kilowatt draws a more alternative, punk crowd than the other bars. Open three years, it's a torn-jeans-and-T- shirt place, and on a weekend night feels like a warehouse keg party. The pool tables are covered in plywood to add seating, the beer is poured into plastic cups and the crowd spills onto the street. Kilowatt is the most likely place to see a really bad haircut, such as shaved on the sides and long on top.

Left from the firehouse is a metal stairway leading nowhere. Dogs are allowed.

DOCTOR BOMBAY'S

The bar, named for a character from the '60s sitcom "Bewitched," has a clientele the right age to have caught the reruns on "Nick at Nite."

The campy interior of the 6-year- old bar mixes masks from around the world, Spanish-style adobe eaves and Polynesian decor, all offset by the grungy style of the crowd. The jukebox carries the soundtrack to "Trainspotting," and many of the people look just right for bit parts.

JACKS ELIXIR

The closest thing to an Irish pub on 16th Street. Behind the wooden double doors a cheery greeter with a brogue says, "Hello, gents. Nice to see yez."

A corner building with checkerboard floor, it has open windows on both 16th and Guerrero, offering cross ventilation and a view of the street spectacle.

Open 10 years, the Elixir is the oldest bar on the strip, in a 1924 corner building. The plank looks original, and worn from elbows. Adjacent wooden counters encourage carving. With 60 beers on tap, the question arises: How fresh are they? But the regulars drink them all and make it their mission to keep the product moving.

BLONDIE'S BAR AND NO GRILL

Pint-size martinis and a free jukebox of jazz and blues "greatest hits" draw all kinds to the room opened six years ago by Blondie Dewald. Double sliding doors open onto the skateboard and street-vendor panoply of Valencia Street. Looking in from the sidewalk one can see every age, color, gender and sexual orientation. There is live music on Saturday nights, which draws the dreaded "bridge and tunnel crowd." The locals retreat to the living room in back.